


Wolf in Wrestle-Man's Skull

by ToughAqua777



Series: Homestar Runner AU: Demon Parasite [3]
Category: Homestar Runner
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Psychics/Psionics, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Out of Character, Psychic Abilities, Rating May Change, Swearing, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:47:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28114878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToughAqua777/pseuds/ToughAqua777
Summary: After a blow to the head, Strong Bad comes into contact with a being who's been with him for a long while. The being seems to mean well, though, teaching him the full potentials of the diamond on his head. Which is nice, and Strong Bad doesn't have too many problems with it (surprisingly). But as time goes on, it becomes abundantly clear there's more to it all than meets the eye...
Series: Homestar Runner AU: Demon Parasite [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1962424
Kudos: 5





	Wolf in Wrestle-Man's Skull

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, I've gotten some work done on this big project I've planned. It's like I have the body of an essay completed, but actually introducing everything (and ending it) is what's hard!
> 
> A few things that I couldn't mention in tags: Don't expect daily updates this time. The reason why I got the other multi-chapter fic down is because the story was already there. This is all from scratch, and since I restart college classes on Jan 11, this will likely be delayed constantly.  
> Also, despite the multitude of fics I've written, I'm by no means a skilled writer. So if you see errors everywhere, that's why. But I think it's high-time I actually wrote one of my long stories down for once.  
> One final thing: This isn't the last part. I'm planning for there to be at least 2 more parts. This is liable to change.
> 
> With all that outta the way, I hope you enjoy what I'm about to rain all over this fandom!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A normal day with the same cast and--HEADS UP!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for all the cut-ins with the lines in this one. And this chapter is a bit of a slow start, but thing's will pick up, I promise.

“THE CHEAT’S ON MY TEAM!!”

“Mehmeh!”

“(Homestar, could you pick more people instead of just me this time?)”

“I said I was sowwy!”

“I better win this time. I closed up my shop for this, so it’s gotta be worth it!”

“And I have a rally to go to! It’s a protest against the abuse of sea mammals and ocean pollution.”

“Ooh, that sounds great, Marzipan! Can I come?”

“I thought she had a restraining order against you? Although I sort of want to go too...”

“Will halftime include a large feast? I’m hungry!”

_...Why did I agree to this?_

Strong Bad ignored the conversations of the others as he grumbled, waiting impatiently on the bench. It’s been some time since the gang last played kickball together, and everyone seemed eager to get it over with. Most of them lost last time, after all.

Of course, Strong Bad kinda had himself to blame for the defeat at the hands of Homestar, Pom Pom, and his little brother. Stupid Homestar, using his own The Cheat-made rule against him! And yet _somehow_ Homestar got everyone to play again (after he removed that backstabbing rule).

But Strong Bad had another excuse that he was unwilling to admit; he has a headache. It wasn’t terrible, but he’d rather be at the top of his game. He’s got an image to keep up!

Oh well. At least it’s a nice day out.

Eventually, The Umpire arrived, prompting everyone to get up and walk onto the field. Homestar and Strong Bad walked towards said Umpire, while everyone else stood in a line.

“All right, fellas, listen up!” The Umpire said, his voice still sounding like that Dick Vitale guy. “Same rules as last time! It’s gonna be a coin toss to see who gets first pick!”

“Wait, why’re they the leaders again?” Strong Sad interrupted, confused.

“Because _I’m_ the cool and awesome Strong Bad, dumpy. I’m a great leader!” Upon finishing, Strong Bad pointed at Homestar, glaring at his grey brother, “And there’s no way I’m risking being on _Homestar’s_ team!”

The Umpire cleared his throat loudly before Strong Bad could continue, about to flip the coin. “Call it in the air!”

Strong Bad didn’t even get a word in before Homestar popped-up, quickly shouting, “Heads!”

The coin landed heads.

_Seriously? Homestar gets to choose first again?!_

“Alwiiiiight!” Homestar did a little dance before looking at the remaining group. “Pom Pom, you’re up!”

Pom Pom nodded, but as he bounced over, he bubbled, “(Remember what I said; _don’t pick just me.)”_

Homestar could only respond with a sheepy laugh.

Strong Bad snickered, if only for a moment, before pointing at The Cheat. “Get over here, The Cheat!”

While The Cheat complied, Strong Mad began to follow behind, which caused The Umpire to step-in. “Hey, wait! You haven’t been ch—”

“I’M ON THE CHEAT’S TEAM!!”

“But—”

_“I’M ON THE CHEAT’S TEAM!!”_

“Alright, alright!” The Umpire held-up his hands in surrender for a second before turning to Homestar. “Well, I guess you need to pick twice.”

“Ooh, cool! I’ll take Pom—”

A swift smack to the face from Pom Pom cleared his head. “I-I mean Marzipan and Coach Z.”

Eventually, the teams were set as the following: Homestar, Pom Pom, Marzipan, Strong Sad, and Coach Z vs. Strong Bad, The Cheat, Strong Mad, Bubs, and The Poopsmith. The King of Town, having not been chosen, sat back on the bench, eating several sticks of butter. Where he got that butter was anyone’s guess.

After that, things went...pretty smoothly, surprisingly. Some people scored, some didn’t, no rule-breaking crap...everything was oddly... _normal._

Yet Strong Bad kept getting the feeling that it wouldn’t last. He wasn’t sure if it was dread, the typical “something’s gonna go to crap” feeling because lady luck wants to stab him in the face, or if it was just his slowly worsening headache.

Honestly, it was probably the last one.

He had tried to ignore the headache all game, but that was slowly becoming impossible. It felt like his head was slowly being crushed on all sides. Earlier, it was just a dull throb at the back of his head. But halfway into this kickball game, it spread to the sides, and _now_ he’s even getting dizzy. Crap, he couldn’t faint here, not now!

Actually, what was he doing right now? Fielding? Maybe he could sneak away and—

“Heads up, Strong Bad!”

He hadn’t even registered who said that before a large ball smacked him on the forehead, directly on his diamond, knocking the distracted wrestle-man onto the ground as the ball bounced away.

Landing back-first onto the grassy field, he rubbed his forehead with a gloved hand, grumbling to himself quiet obscenities. Like this day couldn’t get any worse...

He heard footsteps coming towards him, whose he didn’t know, but whatever, he could stand on his own!

He slowly pushed himself up into a seated position, trying his best (and failing) to ignore the throbbing headache that was now both inside and out. He noticed The Cheat and Strong Mad dashing towards him, Coach Z and The Umpire close behind, while everyone else was conversing, unsure of what to do. Although at the base plate, Homestar was panicking. He must’ve been the kicker.

But he couldn’t comment on any of the visuals around him. He couldn’t even _think_ about them.

Because his headache made the largest spike in pain he’d ever experienced in his life.

On instinct, Strong Bad gripped his head as his mouth gaped open, a scream getting caught in his throat. His emerald eyes went wide as his vision began to tunnel. There was a ringing in his non-existent ears, tuning out all other stimuli. He couldn’t think straight. He couldn’t think at all, actually.

Everything was _agony._

It wasn’t long before his eyes rolled back as he crumpled to the ground.

* * *

_“Meh meh!!”_

_“STRONG BAD!!”_

_“NOOOOO!! I killed him!! I killed Strong Bad!!”_

_“Calm down, Homestar! He’s not dead, he just fainted.”_

_“Time out! I’m getting the first aid kit!”_

_“(Wait...what’s that light—)”_

**_AT LAST._ **

_“HOLY GORSH!!”_

_“Waaaah!! Let’s beat it, Poopsmith!”_

_“Holy—Everybody take cover!!"_

**_I’M FREE._ **

_"What...was that?"_

* * *

"A mild concussion?"

The tall, thin, blue-skinned doctor nodded at the grey Strong Brother. "That was the only problem we could find. I believe you about the incident, mind you, but there's not much else we can say."

Strong Sad turned over to Strong Mad, who was gently holding Strong Bad, as the red-haired woman continued. "If you like, we could have him stay overnight to see if we can find anything more."

"NO!! HE COMES HOME!!" Strong Mad shouted, somehow not rousing the brother he was carrying.

"I-I see...Are you in agreement on this?"

Strong Sad, seeing as he had no other choice (and having him stay would probably freak out all of them in the end), sighed and nodded.

"I understand. If you have any questions, feel free to have him call us. You can also call, if you're worried about him."

"O-okay. Thank you."

The two brothers left the hospital that appeared for plot reasons shortly afterwards, silent as they walked back home. Whether that was because they didn't want to wake Strong Bad, the lack of things to talk about, or the naturally tense atmosphere between them was unclear.

The younger brother, however, made a mental note of the incident back at the track.

Not that he needed to, with the scoreboard having been blown into pieces during that time.

* * *

“F...Falcon...Falcon Punch...Wha?”

Strong Bad groggily opened his eyes, his vision somewhat blurry but making out a familiar, yet unlit, ceiling. He’d recognize it anywhere; the TV room in his house. Which would explain why his head was propped-up by the couch armrest.

Although, that didn’t explain why he was there in the first place. When did he get here? Why was he here? And what was he doing earlier?

The questions swirled around his brain, which was...sore, for lack of a better word. Maybe he had another one of those freaky and freakin’ awful headaches?

Well, that would explain why he doesn’t remember the past...uh...

_...What time is it?_

**_9:30 PM, I believe._ **

_Oh okay, cool._

With a huff, Strong Bad gingerly sat up and slid off the couch, tiredly rubbing his eyes. He turned towards the stairs so he could grab a glass of water from the kitchen.

_...Wait._

With a pin drop, he realized something that he probably should’ve noticed earlier, his expression becoming panicked as he froze in-place.

Someone answered his question.

But he didn’t recognize the voice.

Strong Bad spun around, emerald eyes frantically searching around for someone, _anyone,_ even despite the nagging fear that whoever just spoke probably had murder in-mind.

**_I have no desire, nor reason, to murder you._ **

Ok, _someone’s_ screwing with him. Can’t be any other explanation.

Growing irritated and clearing his throat, he shouted, “Ok, where are you?! This isn’t funny!”

**_I was never joking. And stop shouting, you’ll wake Strong Mad._ **

Crap, that’s true; Strong Mad gets angry when his sleep is disturbed— _Waitaminute!_

Quieter (but more irritated), Strong Bad growled, “How would you know that?! And you never told me where you are! Or _who,_ for that matter!”

**_You...can’t tell I’m in your mind?_**

An awkward pause filled the space between the two conversing beings, Strong Bad slowly taking-in what he had just “heard” and the whispering voice invisibly sighing in exasperation.

Upon Strong Bad shaking off the shock, he lowered his volume to sorta-kinda-not really whisper himself, “You are?”

Another wispy sigh echoed, and considering the dull buzzing in his head that accompanied it, the info finally stuck.

_Oh crap, it is in my head._

**_Well, at least you realize it now..._**

Strong Bad went back to the couch and lied back down, unsure if he should be freaking out or not. At the same time, this could all be a realistic dream. Or maybe he was going nuts. Or maybe he was just _extremely_ tired.

Probably the last one, considering he wasn’t feeling all that great again.

**_Wait, what?! Don’t ignore me! I’m real, you fool!_ **

_Shut up, you fake...thing. I’m going back to sleep._

He tuned out the odd voice with a Limozeen song that had been in his head recently and closed his eyes, unaware of the voice’s groaning.

His dreams were empty, save for the constant feeling of being watched.

Which, in a way, wasn’t a dream at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't help but think that this is exactly how Strong Bad would react in a situation like this. 0 fucks given.
> 
> Next time, we face the consequences of the day and meet a new face.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you're all prepared for this big project I'm working on. I fully intend to finish this, and constructive criticism is encouraged.


End file.
